


Growth Spurt in the Garden of Eden

by keiji05



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: All relationships tagged are platonic, Gen, HQ Brofest Master Tier, Shiratorizawa Yamaguchi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiji05/pseuds/keiji05
Summary: The basics are boring, and this kid looks like he'll fall over if they start with spike receives.But he also wants someone to play with tomorrow, once his father leaves again for another country. His mother won't stop nagging him about needing to focus on academics rather than volleyball, and he won't have any excuses to go back to the park because his dad won't be there to bail him out of study hours.Maybe, he could train this kid to be a good enough player for him.A story of Yamaguchi meeting Ushijima instead of Tsukishima.





	Growth Spurt in the Garden of Eden

0

[Memory](https://youtu.be/wtlWr8pPErE)

Tadashi doesn't like to think too much.

Whenever he's standing in front of the mirror after his morning shower, hair draped messily over his head like a rag tossed carelessly on the floor, he doesn't like to think about the voices of his distant aunt nagging about how sloppy he looks like. He doesn't like to think about the compliments his mother would shower over his pretty classmates. He doesn't like to think about the afterthought comments made under her breath, he looks so cute Tadashi, why can't you be like that?

He combs his hair before he showers so he doesn't have to fix it too much afterwards, but it's so unruly it might as well be an afro. He already had several haircuts to see if he could tame it down, but it all ended in vain.

He dries his skin and pulls up his uniform, thinking instead of the songs played on the TV commercials. He runs his fingers across his hair in a lame attempt to fix it, and gives up when the cowlick springs up again.

The only sounds he could hear when he trots down the stairs were the clanging of pans against stove, and the scrape of spatula against nonstick surface. His father is calmly drinking his coffee, sighing in content as it goes down warmly on his stomach.

"Morning, Dad."

"Morning, Tadashi. Here," he pushes the plate of toasts to him, and he gratefully picked one to go with his warm milk. They ate together in silence, until his mom joins them with another plate of freshly cooked ham and bacon.

"Tadashi, have some of these. Oh, and your bento is on the counter, don't forget alright?"

"Yes, Mom."

He slowed down his chewing, and even sipped his milk instead of downing it like he always does. The thought of school burns his appetite quickly, and the weight of the words from yesterday fills his mind like a flood.

_Why is your face so dirty?_

_You're so skinny! Do you even eat?_

_Oh I know! You're so poor you can't afford food, right?_

_Your clothes are ugly!_

Tadashi knows he shouldn't listen to them. But he's too young to know when to fight back, and it wasn't really the cruel words that sting. It's the silence of everyone around him, watching the bigger boys pick on him as of it's an everyday occurrence and nothing special. It's the way they sometimes huff under their breaths, murmuring something about stupid kids and how they shouldn't bother adults, you twerps don't have problems like us. It's the little giggles of girls when they point at him and whisper how they don't want to play with pushovers. It's the disappointed look at his teacher's eyes as they escort him to the infirmary for another wrap up sessions of his arms and face.

He picks up a bacon and shoves it on his mouth. The delicious taste gets drowned by the bitterness in his heart.

Maybe he'll run today. Run away from the children picking on him. Friendships be damned; he's tired and would rather lie down on his soft bed than do errands for the bigger boys.

The voices refused to stop as he finished his breakfast, up until he's out of the door with a kiss on his cheek. He looked down on his shoe-clad feet, wondering if he's fast enough to dodge the basketball always thrown on him.

He's not fast enough.

Tadashi bites his lips as the boys caught up on his plan, and they managed to gather several balls to throw at him. He lifts up his arm to block an incoming one, and he lands ungracefully on his butt as the impact knocks him down.

"Yo, ugly Tadashi! Get up there! We still need to get to practice and you're bringing our bags, remember?!"

 _No_ , he wants to cry out. _I don't want this anymore! I don't want to be popular or strong like you guys! You're just jerks anyway!_

But another ball flies up to him and hits his head, and loud laughter erupted from the boys. Tears sting his eyes and he sniffed, staring down at his trembling hands curled on his shorts.

"Oh no, he's gonna cry again! What a baby!"

_I'm not gonna cry, I'm not gonna cry, I don't want to cry anymore this is so lame-_

A pair of black shoes came into view, and he looked up to see a boy taller than the ones that push him around, looking down on him with a blank face.

"I'm sorry, are you hurt?"

"W-What?"

He pointed at the blue, yellow, and white ball that hit his head. "That's mine. Did it hit you hard? I can call the teacher if it hurts bad."

"No… No it's okay. Um, what are you playing?"

"Volleyball. My Dad is teaching me."

A spark of hope ignited in his chest. "C-Can I play with you? I m-mean, if your dad is okay with it."

The boy nodded and helped him up, before picking the ball from the ground and walking to the other side of the park. Tadashi quickly dragged his bag up and ran after him, ignoring the voices of the boys calling him names.

Maybe today he'll be safe.

"Oh, Wakatoshi? You brought a friend?"

Wakatoshi passed the ball to his dad, blinking at the scrawny boy that followed him. "He said he wanted to play with me."

"That's nice! Hello there, what's your name?"

"Y-Yamaguchi Tadashi, sir! Pleased to meet you."

"Haha, no need to be so timid, it's fine! Do you know how to play volleyball, Yamaguchi-kun?"

"…n-no sir."

He turned to face Yamaguchi, watching his hand pull at the hem of his shirt. "Why did you want to play with me if you don't know how to?"

His father laughed, and Yamaguchi looked sick. "Now, now, Wakatoshi. How about this: you teach him the basics and you could work on your receives by passing the ball to each other."

Wakatoshi blinked again. The basics are boring, and this kid looks like he'll fall over if they start with spike receives.

But he also wants someone to play with tomorrow, once his father leaves again for another country. His mother won't stop nagging him about needing to focus on academics rather than volleyball, and he won't have any excuses to go back to the park because his dad won't be there to bail him out of study hours.

Maybe, he could train this kid to be a good enough player for him.

Wakatoshi breathes out slowly, then asks his dad for the ball.

 

1

[Blind Alley](https://youtu.be/hMaLa3KQYpQ)

The gym was big enough to hold two courts inside. Tadashi can't help but gape in wonder, but it got quickly squashed down by the sudden palpitations of his poor heart.

The heavy and forceful thud of balls hitting the floor faster than he could blink echoed all throughout the gym. Sunlight pours down from the big glass windows, faded and scratched from the years.

Beside him, Wakatoshi stands undisturbed, gym bag hung on one of his broad shoulders. He watched the warm-up with the focus of a predator, not intimidated by the height and power displayed so openly by the players.

Yamaguchi was still too inexperienced to participate for the tryouts, but Wakatoshi is having none of his excuses to sneak out.

It's been only three weeks since they first met, and Wakatoshi was already invested in his apparent interest in volleyball. He invited Tadashi as much as possible, spending their afternoons in the park until the sun has set and their arms sting and ache. The boys that used to order him around were no longer bothering him, and he simultaneously felt relieved and constipated at the vibe the taller brunet gives off.

One time he asked why Wakatoshi was so into volleyball. He said his dad is a great player of the sport, and their team had gone to Nationals several times. Tadashi gasped and blurted out praises, and Wakatoshi seemed so starry eyed while talking about the great and reliable ace that his father was teammates with. He said he wanted to be like that.

"A powerful ace?" Tadashi asked.

"Mm. Someone who you could look up to and know that when the time comes, he won't disappoint the team."

That was the longest he'd heard Wakatoshi speak.

The wind rushed past them, rustling the nearby trees. Tadashi watched some of the leaves fly to the older boy's hair, the steel determination evident on his eyes.

He's so ambitious, it's kind of enviable. He had a grand goal, and is working towards it with admirable progress. And then there's Tadashi, whose only ambition to be at least relatively cool.

But now he's inspired.

He wants to be as cool as Wakatoshi.

“Tryouts for the elementary! Step up!”

Wakatoshi turned to him. “Stay here and pay attention. Then tell me what position you want to play later.”

Tadashi nodded, and watched him stride up to the coach with confidence. As if he was made to stand there.

“So cool,” he whispered.

True to his word, Tadashi made sure to carefully watch the whole thing. Based on the books that Wakatoshi lent him, there are several positions in volleyball. The first is the wing spiker, which can be an all-out offensive player (the ace?), but most of them are well-rounded on receives too. Next is the setter, the “control tower” of a team. A good setter is one who makes spiking the ball easy for the attackers. Then there’s the middle blocker, whose specialty is to block the spikes of the other team. They can switch out with the Libero once they’re on the back, depending on the strategy.

So far, Tadashi hasn’t picked out a good one that he thinks would fit him. He’s not that tall, his arms aren’t strong, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to coordinate a team with how clumsy he is. If he ever gets into a team (which definitely would be pure luck), he’ll probably be just a reserve.

Wakatoshi is definitely going to get a starter position. He’s been practicing for years, and his strength is something that is honed by long training. Tadashi won’t be able to catch up to him.

He shook his head. Of course he can’t catch up on his current state.

But maybe… he could…

Tadashi clutched the hem of his shirt, eyes intently boring at the tall, imposing presence of his friend, feeling up the ball in his hands before tossing it up.

The hard slap of spikes and loud whistles filled the gym.

“So,” Wakatoshi began after emptying his water bottle. “What position do you want to play?”

Tadashi looked down at his shoes, his cheeks flushing a bit. “Um… I want to… ah, m-middle blocker!”

“Huh.”

“B-Because… I want to block your spikes!”

Wakatoshi was silent, before placing his hand on his shoulder. “Is that so.”

“Yeah!”

A small smile formed in his lips. “Then get ready tomorrow. I’ll make you familiar with my spikes.”

 

2

[Pianoflikkan](https://open.spotify.com/track/0Ke1joPdykB1v1cRA23eW5)

_This is a mistake_ , Tadashi thought helplessly as he bent over and gasped heavily. His heart is beating so hard in his chest it’s starting to hurt, and his skin feel painful. Sweat coated his face, and he didn’t want to think about the growing ache on his thighs.

A few steps ahead of him, Wakatoshi stopped. “You okay?”

 _I’m not_ , he wanted to scream. But he asked for this, he wanted to be strong. He needed this. “Sorry, just… a minute…”

“It’s fine, I’ll slow down so I can match your pace.”

“’s that okay?”

“Yeah. We need to make you accustomed to long distance running so you’ll build the stamina.”

Tadashi bit his tongue and forced his breath to slow down until his heart returned to its normal pulse. He felt warm all over, and he badly wants some water to cool himself. But Wakatoshi made it clear that water during running will make it more difficult, so he sucked it up and resumed jogging.

They decided to run along the side of the small hill not too far from school. At first, Tadashi didn’t think too much of it; he’d been there before and it wasn’t that long. But now, he’s running with the purpose of getting fit, and he didn’t want to waste Wakatoshi’s time.

Once they’ve reached the other end of the hill, Tadashi sprawled on the grass, panting. The older boy sat down beside him, not even fazed by the workout.

“You’ll get used to it, don’t worry.”

“Do you… huff… have tips for that?” He joked, and Wakatoshi flicked his forehead.

“Practice on short bursts first. I would make you do that for the first time, but I want to see how you’ll hold up with my routine.”

“I’m dead, Ushijima-san. Your routine killed me.”

“Wakatoshi is fine.”

Tadashi craned his neck to look up at him. The older boy watched the horizon with calmness in his eyes.

“Then,” He sat up, brushing the specks of dirt that clung on his shirt. “Tadashi is fine too.”

They watched the sky turn from a hazy purple and blue hue to a bright orange, the sun slowly ascending back to heaven. A flock of birds flew past them, and the gentle sound of cars passing by filled the comfortable silence between them.

The city is slowly waking up. A beep came from Wakatoshi’s pocket, and he pulled it out to turn off the 5:45 alarm.

Wakatoshi stood up, holding out his hand. Tadashi pulled himself up, and together they trekked back to town.

 

 

3

 

After dinner, Tadashi quickly returned to his bedroom and prepared the clothes he’ll be wearing the next morning. Sweatpants, check. Loose cotton shirt, check. Comfortable socks, check. Face towel, check. Alarm for 5:00, check.

There’s only so much he could prepare. He inhaled slowly, quietly letting out the air from his nose.

“This is all for me,” he whispered, sitting cross-legged in front of his folded clothes. “I will give myself to volleyball. In return, I’ll be stronger.”

He visualized what he wanted to happen next morning. A quick warmup in front of his house, then meeting Wakatoshi on the foot of the hill. First, a relatively relaxed pace. Around the first seven trees they would pass by, he’ll increase his pace, but not too much it would knock his breath off. By the fifteenth tree, running with all his strength. He envisions Wakatoshi running beside him, sweating and flushed, but unbothered by the physical strain. That’s what he wanted to achieve too.

By the eighteenth tree, he’ll slow down to light jogging, enough to catch his breath. By the twenty-first tree, back to the relaxed pace. He anticipates the stomach-churning pain that comes with inexperience.

He inhaled, then exhaled slowly. “I’ll be fine. This is all for me.”

By 21:00, he’s deep in slumber.

 

Tadashi excitedly tiptoed out of the house, his sock-clad feet slipping against the wooden floor. He grabbed his shoes and hurriedly put them on, already turning the door open.

As he expected, it’s still dark outside. The cold sent goosebumps on his skin, and he rubbed on his arms to get rid of the chill. Warmup, right. He felt silly jumping up and down and running in place, but the words of conviction from last night tattooed itself in his mind.

_This is all for me. Not for Wakatoshi, not for anyone else._

He puffed out a breath, and jogged to their meeting place.

 

Wakatoshi is already there, lightly jogging in position. He nodded at Tadashi in greeting, and together they approached the track that they’ll be using every day from now on.

Tadashi held the vision he had last night, and stretched his legs.

“Ready?” Wakatoshi quietly asked.

The freckled boy nodded, and they began running.

 

“Next, the all-important receive.”

Tadashi eyed the ball in Wakatoshi’s hands with determination. “If the ball does not connect, then points and opportunities are lost.”

“Correct. Now, just because you’re going to be a middle blocker, doesn’t mean you can slack off with receives. Here, like this,” The older boy crouched into a receiving position, his legs bent but not awkward, arms stretched forward. “For now, we’ll focus on passing. When you’ve got it down, we’ll move to the serve receives. You’ve seen Nakamura-san from the tryouts, right?”

Tadashi nodded. The big kid with a devastating serve. “Are your serves weaker compared to his?”

Wakatoshi snorted, tossing the ball in the air. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know; you both are intense it’s scary.”

“Maybe. I don’t care.” He gently hit the falling ball with his arms, making it bounce up. “Always aim to pass the ball to the setter. If you’re far from them or if the ball flies out of the court, pass the ball to the one nearest to you. If it connects, there’s a chance to get a point.” He caught the ball with his left hand, and shot him a look. “Get in position.”

The brunet nodded, mimicking the receiving stance Wakatoshi did earlier. The older boy moved him until his back is slanted forward properly, his legs ready to move, and his arms not locked into a stiff position. “Make sure to move your shoulders and torso when passing the ball, or else you’ll strain your arms.”

“Yes!”

“Alright, here it goes.”

Wakatoshi tossed the ball up and dropped to position, passing the ball to him effortlessly. Tadashi nervously caught it, but the pass was messed up with the way his arms stiffened. The other boy received it, slowing the tempo so he can decide the best course of receiving it. “Calm down, we’re still practicing.”

“Y-Yes!”

They continued passing the ball to each other, Wakatoshi calling out orders to fix his position. At one point, he caught the ball and went over to correct his form, before resuming their casual volley. When they got to one hundred, Tadashi happily caught the ball with his hands, catching his breath. The older boy smiled, grabbing his bag from the bench where they left their belongings to retrieve his water bottle.

“Well, at least you didn’t drop the ball.”

Tadashi laughed, sweat glistening on his skin.

He’ll take whatever compliment he can get.

 

4

 

Today is the tryouts for his age level, and to say that Tadashi is nervous is an understatement.

He’s _outright panicking_.

“What are you even worrying about?” Wakatoshi, visibly confused, handed him a can of sports drink he bought from the nearby vending machine. They’re sitting on the benches outside the gym, under the shade of the huge building. Tadashi gratefully took it, but didn’t open the can. “You’re certainly better than you were before. I don’t understand why you’re like this.”

“B-But, there’s a lot of taller and stronger guys inside, I don’t- “

“There’s also a lot of great players who don’t have the height- “

“And what if I messed up a pass? They would think I’m lame- “

“Tadashi you’re overreacting– “

“And then I won’t get accepted to the team at all! Not even a reserve!”

Wakatoshi paused, sending him a flat and heavy stare.

“Are you telling me I’ve spent all this time training you for you to fail?”

Tadashi felt his anxiety fade, replaced with a fear so cold he couldn’t fathom where it came from. “W-What? No I– “

“Then why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be inside already? I don’t like players who waste my time. I didn’t train you just to back out like this, and certainly not to be just a reserve.” He stepped closer to the younger boy, until he’s looming over him. “You’re going inside, impress the coach, and get a starter position by the end of the day. Before Inter High starts, we’ll be practicing as teammates, and we’ll go to Inter High as teammates.”

The bubbling feeling of unworthiness slowly drained away, and replaced with something hopeful.

“You want us to be teammates? You want to play on the same team as me?”

Wakatoshi looked positively exasperated, and he couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. “You’re a pain. Of course I want you as my teammate.” He grabbed Tadashi’s backpack and ushered him to the open doors of the gym. “If you don’t get a starter position I’ll make you receive a hundred serves.”

Tadashi mockingly raised his arm to cover his head, as if swooning. “Cruel!”

“Just go inside already!”

 

He found Wakatoshi still on the benches after the tryouts. When the older boy saw him, he huffed at the starry-eyed expression etched on Tadashi’s freckled face.

“Are you ready for your hundred serve receives?” He jokes.


End file.
